I function best on days which are filled to the brim. Probably a symptom of growing up with 3 siblings, 5 extra-curriculars each at any given time, 2 parents, and only 7 days in the week. When my teachers or parents used to tell me to 'go get busy,' I used to want to say, 'no need to go get her. you're looking at her.' Busy is my middle name. I like to stay on the go. I also like to complain about this, as though I myself don't plan out every minute of my life. But the truth is, when I have nothing to do, I'm not good at doing it. I always have to be tasked with something, or going somewhere, or coming from somewhere. It is simply, and if you ask Jim-dear, sometimes regretfully, my nature.
It's tough to really devote myself to creative endeavors when I'm always go! go! go! I don't nurture the small amount of talent I may have, and I certainly don't harvest the great amount of desire and ideas I know I have. I can never focus on a centralized idea, but rather, satisfy my whims by slapping them on a word document, disjointed and unfinished. I have enough characters to rival Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (if you can get past his Jesus complex, and her Swiss Family Robinson haircut, they're seriously good music). I could write a novel with excerpts from ideas. Derivatives from my right brain. None of them have much to do with each other...but the words are there. It's frustrating for two reasons. One: it's easy to be a defeatist in a truly competitive industry. The chances of me having any literary success are slim, and that's realistic. Two: I'm really not going to succeed if I never try at all, and I, of all people, know that! I was reading a great interview a few weeks back with one of my favorite actresses, Rita Wilson. In it, she responds to an inquiry on how fate plays a role in our careers and our professional choices, saying, "...whatever you loved to do as a kid you should probably be doing as an adult." She goes on to highlight our innocence as children, our purity of heart and purpose. We did what we did because we loved it.
When I was a kid, I wrote stories. ENDless stories about endless topics (frequently about two dogs named Max and Sadie). I know, I know...you thought I'd say something about acting right?? I did plenty of that, too, but still under the guise of creating anew. I loved to make up new people with new backgrounds and histories and futures. I read this article and it was like a lightening bolt hit me between the eyes! Why, as a child, when I was probably more prone to distraction and deficits of attention, did I have more patience to write with a focus and a purpose than I do now as an adult? And I can partially answer that; for one, my stories were short and undoubtedly not very "deep." I also have many more responsibilities as an adult than I did as a child. My priorities are different. But it sure did get me thinking about that "P" word. Priorities. Why isn't my writing a priority? Because it may be pointless? And then I started thinking about that other "P" word. Pointless. As a believer in a higher authority, a grander plan, I try not to see anyone or anything as pointless. Yet, here I am, applying lackluster faith to my own contribution.
I believe we are each called to a vocation in life. The more time I invest in thinking and praying about it, the more sure I become that my vocation is one of the written word. I have no idea what direction that will take. For all I know, it might never leave this page. It's exciting to think, though, that I'm starting to see more clearly on my path, hazy as it still may be. It's exciting, and scary, and a little overwhelming knowing what you want, or at least having an idea. I guess it just makes me want to....get busy :)
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